


One Missed Call

by blanchtt



Series: Minific Prompts [6]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8060959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanchtt/pseuds/blanchtt
Summary: The last person she expects to find back at Felix’s loft is a heavily-pregnant Helena.





	

 

 

The last person she expects to find back at Felix’s loft is a heavily-pregnant Helena. 

 

Sarah blinks, lets the image of Helena sitting on Felix’s couch watching her excitedly, sink in. Helena grins and puts the shard of Pop Tart that Sarah had interrupted her from finishing down on the coffee table. No plate, Sarah can see, and she smiles wanly at the thought of the look on Felix’s face if he were to see. There are probably crumbs everywhere, too, but those can always be kicked under the couch.

 

Somehow, Helena heaves herself up with ease, highly unfair given that Sarah had found that that stage of pregnancy meant everything was a fuckin’ production. But Sarah holds her hands up, the brief relief at finally seeing Helena almost instantly overwhelmed by everything else that demands her attention.

 

Helena sits back down, and Sarah reaches behind herself, rolls the door shut and drops the screwdriver into place. Apparently Felix hasn’t updated his locking mechanism, and he of all people should know how flimsy a screwdriver in a padlock eyelet is, especially to people who have guns and bots and whatever fuckin’ else they don’t know about yet.

 

“Helena. Christ,” Sarah sighs, walking over and taking a seat next to her. She slumps down, reaches into her back pocket and pulls out her phone before turning and looking at Helena. “Where were you? Don’t you have the phone I gave you?”

 

She knows Helena knows how to use it. They’d talked, once or twice, since Helena had disappeared. And that meant Helena probably wasn’t dead - because so far nothing, not even getting shot point-blank in the chest, has managed to stop Helena. But that 'probably' hasn’t been one that’s sat comfortably with her. Sarah holds up her own phone with its ridiculous purple case, waves it, and watches Helena’s eyes widen slightly in recognition. 

 

“Ah,” Helena says, and gets up - again, unfairly easily. Sarah almost asks her to sit down and offers to do it for her, but Helena clomps over to a bag that looks suspiciously like it’s made out of an entire deer hide and rummages through it, walking back over with the phone and the charger cord.

 

Helena sits back down next to her, holding out the phone, and Sarah takes it, turns it over quickly in her hands, pressing on the home button. No scratches, no cracks, but it refuses to light up. 

 

“There was much beeping,” Helena says, and Sarah snorts. Too true, especially when it comes to Cosima’s text messages. Helena waves a hand unhurriedly, motions away from herself with distaste. “And then it went black. It has shit battery. Last two weeks, I did not find socket for charging.”

 

Helena holds up the charger, and Sarah takes it, walks over to the counter at the kitchen and plugs the charger in, sticks the cord in the phone. It’s a legitimate excuse, especially given what Helena’s wearing, but fuck did it scare her. 

 

“But now I am here,” Helena finishes, scary-close to what Sarah’s already thinking, and Sarah shakes her head, puts the phone down on the countertop as it lights up, starting to charge.

 

“Fuck,” she breathes out, and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Helena watches her, a worried look on her face, and Sarah nearly laughs at the ridiculousness of the two of them worrying about worrying the other. “You hafta answer when I call you, okay?” she half-begs, drumming fingers against the counter in agitation, and feels some sliver of weight come off her shoulders as Helena nods her head. She can at least have that. “You scared the shite out of me, you know?”

 

The phone’s screen lights up, and Sarah looks down, picks it up and swipes to unlock it. No passcode. She’ll have to fix that. “Apologies, sestra,” Helena starts, and Sarah shakes her head. The last thing Helena owes her, as if she could possibly owe her anything, is an apology. 

 

“Jus’ be careful, alright?” They’re already strung as thin and tight as they’ve ever been, and Sarah takes a deep breath, frowns as an alarm pops up. She swipes it away, muttering, “How the bloody hell is there an alarm set up.” She looks up, holds the phone out and waves it. “Did you do this?”

 

Helena shakes her head, curly mess of hair following her motion. “No. There was much beeping,” she repeats. “I ignored it.”

 

She’d assumed Helena knew how to use a cellphone, but maybe that had been a leap. Clearly Helena had understood the _concept_ of a telephone, but their old ones were simpler and more durable. She’ll suggest a downgrade to Felix next time he feels like going on another shopping spree for them all.

 

She concentrates on checking the clock app, turning off random and nameless alarms, and heading to the settings. Passcode, passcode, where is it? She hears the creak of the couch springs, and the shuffle of Helena’s boots against the hardwood as her sister steps up to the bar counter. The stool’s feet screech against the floor as Helena drags it back, and Sarah sees distractedly out of the corner of her eye as Helena takes a seat.

 

“Sarah.”

 

Sarah looks up from adding a passcode, 0-0-0-0 easy enough to remember, and leans closer to Helena, tilting the screen to make what she’s doing visible to Helena as her sister leans forward as much as she can, weight on her elbows.

 

“Yeah, meat’ead?”

 

As she’s in the middle of opening up the phone app to get rid of all her unanswered messages, Helena reaches out, taps the phone dead-center with her index finger, nearly selecting a message to play over speakerphone.

 

“Must the words be in English?”

 

Deleting messages takes an instant back-seat, and the wall of text, notification about missed call after missed call, hits Sarah for what it is - likely just foreign letters, to Helena, and nothing more. She looks up, catches Helena watching her with a steady but hopeful look in her eyes, as if she’s resignedly expecting a no but somehow still hoping against hope that this can be done. 

 

“Anything for you,” Sarah says, and clears her throat, hopes it doesn’t come out sounding as as knee-jerk as it could have. She swipes back to the settings, looks up Ukranian in the language selection and looks up before tapping it, pretending to think hard. “You want it in Russian, yeah?”

 

“ _Ukrayinsʹkyy!_ ” Helena laughs, slapping the counter, and the sight of it, of Helena now howling with laughter and with tears in her eyes and looking about ready to fall of the stool, makes Sarah start to laugh, too. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, the adrenaline - or maybe it’s the fact that _this_ is easy. Being with Helena, helping her with her phone. Normal people shite. “You are jokester, sestra,” Helena announces, breathless, and, really, only Helena would think so. Or perhaps Cosima, too, after she's gotten to smoking.

 

“Yeah, big jokester,” Sarah agrees with a chuckle, selects Ukranian and puts the phone back down on the counter as it restarts. She leans up against the counter, hips pressing against tile, and nods toward Helena's hat, grins because there has _got_ to be some story behind that fox skin wrapped around her head, and asks, "So you gonna tell me about that hat or what?"

 

 

 


End file.
